


The Sunnyside of the Street

by Luka



Category: Primeval
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 11:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Lester goes above and beyond the call of duty as he and Nick continue to build their relationship.





	The Sunnyside of the Street

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to the already posted The Rose of England.

"Have you quite finished?" Lester quirked a disapproving eyebrow.

Stephen Hart laughed even more, causing heads in the ARC to turn.

"Well, are you going to answer my question or not?"

"You didn't think of using Google?"

Lester waved a dismissive hand. "I don't have time for that sort of nonsense…"

Hart began crooning: "'It was Christmas Eve, babe, in the drunk tank…' That must ring some bells."

Lester shook his head. "I can't say it's part of my music collection."

"What planet have you been on for the past 20-odd years? Christmas isn't Christmas until you've heard Fairytale of New York, Merry Christmas Everybody and I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday."

"I'm more of a Carols from King's man myself."

Hart grinned broadly. "I bet you are. Well, think of this one as broadening your education."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that…"

"Nick'll be dead chuffed, you know…"

"Yes, well. Now, are you going to…?"

Hart rolled his eyes and sat down at the computer, His long fingers danced over the keys. After a few minutes, the printer whirred into life and Hart reached over for the sheet of paper. "There you are, two tickets to see The Pogues at the Brixton Academy. And the best of British…"

*~*~*~

"This is all very mysterious, James. It's not like you to go out for the evening so dressed down. Are you sure the world isn't coming to an end?"

Lester smiled, helping himself to more of the delicious tapas. He'd found the little Spanish place one night before a visit to the Old Vic theatre. The food was excellent and no one batted an eyelid at clientele in jeans. He had to admit it was rather a novelty not to have to dress up to the nines to go out. But he felt conspicuous in his casual clothes.

"So where are we going? Not the theatre with you dressed like that… Well, not unless it's some bizarre experimental nonsense at the RSC."

"Would I take you to the theatre for your birthday?"

Nick grinned and rolled his eyes. They'd been to the theatre together once – Macbeth, at the National – and Nick had whined all through about the lousy Scottish accents, then had fallen asleep after the interval. He'd woken up suddenly, asked in a loud voice if the wood had moved yet, and then muttered for the rest of the play on being told sotto voce by an embarrassed Lester that indeed it had. 

"Do you want a dessert? We've got half an hour before the taxi comes."

"Mysteriouser and mysteriouser," commented Nick, snaffling the last helping of the rather divine fried potatoes. 

"I'll take that as a yes. And I can thoroughly recommend the almond frangipane tart."

*~*~*~

Lester settled into the back of the cab and watched Nick staring out of the window at the dark streets of south London. Six months ago, he'd have laughed at anyone who'd have suggested that their relationship would have even been possible, let alone successful. And yes, Lester was quietly hopeful that it would continue to be successful. On the surface, they were radically different personalities and had little in common. But Lester knew he'd been waiting all his life for someone who was his intellectual equal and who had an equally strong personality. And Nick Cutter was both, in spades.

As the taxi drew up and Lester paid the driver, Nick was staring around him. And inspiration was beginning to dawn…

"James, surely we're not…?"

"The Pogues, Brixton Academy."

"You're taking me to see The Pogues?" Nick's accent was always strongest at moments of disbelief.

"I am."

"Good grief, James… This is definitely above and beyond the call of duty."

"Well, a little bird told me this might well be their final Christmas reunion and that you'd be heart-broken to miss it."

Nick beamed. "The little bird was right. 

*~*~*~

Lester glanced around him and suppressed a grimace. Half of the audience appeared to be Irish and a good two-thirds of it were approaching the falling down drunk stage. He'd already had a large hurler from Offaly throw his arms around him, deliver a sloppy kiss and inform Lester that he was his new best friend. Nick had been no help, simply wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and offering to buy Lester a new orange juice to replace the one that was now adorning the already sticky floor of the venue. Nick had said airily that he could expect a tide mark around his shoes by the end of the evening.

The whole thing could politely be described as an experience. Orange juice was the safest option when the glass of white wine Lester was served at the rugby scrum of a bar turned out to be the first cousin of paint stripper. And he resolved to avoid the malodorous men's toilets at all costs – particularly given they seemed to be the place to go if you wanted a fight. Lester had never been to a rock gig in his life, and his ears hurt from the level of the music – and it wasn't like he and Nick were standing that close to the front. Everyone around them was clearly having the time of their lives, judging by the watermelon grins on their faces. Nick was jigging up and down happily, singing along to the music.

At first Lester had thought uncharitably that you couldn't bless it with the moniker of music. The more he listened, though, the more he could see the skill and energy there, even if it wasn't his cup of tea. The lead singer was a rag-tag and bobtail chap who was drunk as a lord, completely incomprehensible, but clearly adored by every member of the audience. From what Lester could see, he also appeared to be seriously dentally challenged. 

A huge cheer went up as a pretty young woman appeared from the wings of the stage and fake snow began to fall on the auditorium. Around them, people grabbed the person next to them and started to waltz. Lester could see the large hurler from Offaly bearing down on them. So he caught hold of Nick and they launched into a clumsy shuffle which had both of them laughing and shouting to each other – not that they could make out the words over the music and merriment. And Lester realised suddenly that he couldn’t remember when he'd last had so much fun.

*~*~*~

Outside, as the audience spilled out onto the pavement, it was starting to snow. Nick gave Lester's waist the quickest of squeezes. "That was the best night ever, James. Thank you."

Lester nodded and smiled. And he quoted back the one line that had really stuck in his head from that song: "I've got a feeling this year's for me and you," he said quietly.

The smile on Nick's face told him he was right.


End file.
